


Unanswered Prayers

by Soquilii9



Category: Bones (TV)
Genre: Gen, Romance, Songfic, chance encounters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-31
Updated: 2019-03-31
Packaged: 2019-12-26 16:22:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18285905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Soquilii9/pseuds/Soquilii9
Summary: A chance encounter with Hannah Burley.This is a Bones Songfic and my first Bones fanfic.





	Unanswered Prayers

**Author's Note:**

> 'Bones' was created by Hart Hanson; loosely based on the life and novels of Kathy Reichs, a forensic anthropologist, who also produced the show.
> 
> 'Unanswered Prayers' credit goes to songwriters: Larry Bastian, Patrick Alger and Garth Brooks.

 

 

He was running late again.  She’d understand; she always had.  God knows, she’d stayed late at the lab more times than he could count.  It was difficult finding time these days for an evening out, and even more difficult finding nice restaurants that welcomed children.  Bones had picked this one and had texted him the address.

While the Booths allowed themselves the occasional solo _date night,_ at which times Angela and Hodgins babysat or they alternated and they kept Michael Vincent, they preferred doing things as a family.  _Correction:_ _a family **unit** is what she calls us sometimes_, he thought, smiling.  He jogged the short distance from the car to the front door of the restaurant and pushed it open.  As he entered the stylish foyer, the Headwaiter glanced up at him.

‘Good evening, sir.  Do you have a reservation?’

‘Yes, the name is Booth; my family should already be here.’ 

The Headwaiter consulted the seating chart.  'If you'll excuse us for just a moment, sir, there's a slight delay.  Please have a seat.'

'I'm fine.'  Booth took a few steps back and glanced around, taking in his surroundings.  Bones had selected a nice place.  The restaurant's stylish decor, soft music and subtle lighting gave it a romantic ambience.  His hands in his pockets, Booth whistled softly and took a few steps to the left to admire a painting. 

The Headwaiter located the table where Temperance, Christine and Hank were waiting within a very short period of time, but it seemed to Booth that those few seconds lasted an hour, for as he turned back around, he saw her.  For the first time in years, he saw her.  She was sitting at the end of the bar just to the right of the foyer.  She must have seen him come in; her eyes were wide, staring steadily into his.

**_She was the one that I'd wanted for all times, and each night I'd spend prayin' that God would make her mine_ **

**_And if he'd only grant me this wish I wished back then, I'd never ask for anything again._ **

Only seconds, during which something like an old movie played in his mind; a speeded-up sepia epic he wouldn't have paid to see more than once; a movie with certain scenes he'd bet - risking his Gambler's Anonymous token - were playing in her mind, as well.  He could once again feel the heat of Afghanistan; warn her of the dangerous situation from which he'd rescued her.  He felt the bond they'd formed in a war zone.  Then it had become necessary for him to go back home; he reluctantly left her behind but took her picture with him.  He was overjoyed when she returned to the States to join him.  A relationship had continued to develop such as he had described to Bones as _serious as a heart attack;_ borne of his great need to have someone he could at last call his own.  Booth had felt young again and he looked forward to each day with the sense of adventure and joy that Hannah had brought to his life.  Hannah, even without experience with children, had won Parker over completely and become BFFs with his partner.  Everything was falling into place, at long last.  Booth got drunk with Sweets one night and exchanged confidences about Hannah and Daisy; the next day they went shopping for rings.  That night, that last night, he had waited for her, nervous and hopeful and happy.   

**_She wasn't quite the angel that I remembered in my dreams and I could tell that time had changed me, in her eyes too it seemed_ **

**_We tried to talk about the old days, there wasn't much we could recall; I guess the Lord knows what he's doin' after all._ **

He hadn't planned on proposing that night but the universe itself seemed to be propelling him ahead at full speed.  He dug in his pocket and brought out the ring.  She glanced down at it.  Almost imperceptibly, her face fell.  Her smile vanished, replaced by a look of absolute horror.  He mistook the expression, incorrectly guessing that he had simply taken her breath away.  Then those fatal words.  _I can’t.  I’m not the marrying kind._ He stared at her in disbelief and stepped back.  Leaning against the railing at the edge of the water, he refused to look at her.  

Then, out of the blue, she starkly revealed herself to him as the shallow, good-time girl with the big ego he had somehow failed to truly see.  **_Go back?_**   Was she crazy?  Was she that cruel?  Did she think he could rip his heart from his chest, set it back five minutes and thrust it back in like nothing had happened?  His eyes grew hard as he stared at her, redirecting some of his rising anger at himself.  His career had always been based on how well he read people.  How could he not have seen it?  What had he blindly let himself in for?  God, he was his own worst enemy.  He had gone from love and devotion to abject hatred in zero-point-one seconds.

Coldly, arrangements were agreed upon for her exit from his apartment and his life.  He heard her repeat the phrase as if she thought he was too dense to hear it the first time, not caring if she plunged the knife into his heart a second time.  _I’m not the marrying kind._

After she left, he contemplated the ring.  No refunds, no exchanges.  A thing of beauty within which was set a large, expensive chunk of the hardest substance known to man.  Exactly like her.  He was stuck with the ring.  He didn't want to be stuck with her.  He knew that now.

Now, here in the restaurant, Seeley Booth and Hannah Burley continued to stare at each other, taking measure.  Booth had seen carefully blank faces like hers at poker tables.  If his instincts were right, given any encouragement at all, she’d come running over and attempt to pick up where they’d left off.  What was it she’d said, all those years ago? _I_ **_do_** _love you, Seeley.  I don't think we're done... but I can see we're done_ ** _for now._**  Maybe she thought the future would somehow magically change things.  

**_No._ **

Booth's eyes were cold and hard.  He didn’t encourage her by so much as the flicker of an eyelash.  The movie had ended yet he couldn’t seem to look away.

The Headwaiter unknowingly came to his rescue.  ‘So sorry for the delay, sir, a large family reunion required a slight rearrangement.  A waiter will escort you to your table now.'

Booth broke the spell and turned away from Hannah to nod at the man.  The movie and the encounter had lasted only fifteen seconds.

Temperance - he rarely called her by her given name, preferring the nickname she used to loathe but now cherished - and the children were happily chatting; Bones no doubt explaining in terms far over the children’s heads what the menu items consisted of and debating which to order.  As the waiter led him to the table, Booth took a moment to observe that they were in full view of the bar.  He knew that Hannah would be able to see him lean over to kiss his wife and children and he felt a degree of egotistical self-satisfaction, however ungentlemanly that feeling was.  He stealthily ventured a glance toward the bar.  Hannah's seat was empty.  Bones had not seen Hannah and for that, Booth was grateful.  He wouldn't have wanted to discuss any of it.

**_And as she walked away and I looked at my wife and then and there I thanked the good Lord for the gifts in my life_ **

**_Sometimes I thank God for unanswered prayers; remember when you're talkin' to the Man Upstairs_ **

**_That just because he doesn't answer doesn't mean he don't care._ **

Booth turned his attention back to his beautiful, intelligent wife, precocious daughter, and youngest son.  ‘Sorry I’m late, Bones.’

'Work?'

'Yeah.  Hope it won't happen again.'

'It will,' Bones said, smiling.  'It's what we do.'

‘Daddy!’ Christine piped up.  ‘Did you know they eat fried _tarantulas_ in Cambodia?’

Booth gasped for the benefit of his daughter.  ‘No!  They _do?_ ’

‘Yes, and in China, they serve a dish called _Yak Penis._ ’

 _'Huh?_ ''  Booth did a double take and brought his finger to his lips.  ‘Well, I’m sure they don’t have that _here_ , Christine,’ he said in a low voice. ‘Bones, what have you been _telling_ her?’ he added, _sotto voce._

‘Relax, Booth, we were... discussing... the more unusual items on the menu... and that led to what I think was an interesting, all-encompassing dialog on world cuisine.  Hank and Christine will get the Children’s Menu.  Finger foods... like chicken meatballs, broccoli cheese bites, fruit and vegetables.’

‘I think that's what I'll have.  Small portions.  I lost my appetite when she said fried tarantula.’  Booth made a sour face for the benefit of the children.

Bones, Christine and even little Hank, who wasn’t sure what was going on but thought it funny anyway, giggled.

Seeley Booth cast one last glance at the door through which Hannah Burley had passed.  He wondered briefly what she must have felt, seeing him there with his family - with Bones.  He found himself not really caring.  It was just a passing thought, borne out of curiosity.  Nothing more and not worth contemplating.

Booth looked around the table at his family.  His heart swelled with happiness as he picked up a menu.  ‘How about you, Buddy, would _you_ eat fried tarantula?’ he grinned at his son.

**_Some of God's greatest gifts are unanswered prayers._ **

 

 

The End


End file.
